Generation
by snowhiskers
Summary: The crowd is starting to pull out forks and knives…Sorry, exaggeration, their only waving us off to be slaughtered for the lols.  20 years post MJ, the Bakers son and the Storms daughter, the first games, and their forced romance clearly isn't working.
1. There is a girl, there is a boy

There is a girl in the woods, her long braid dangling around her neck. There is a boy in the meadow, arranging the flowers on the grass. There is a mother in the house, who knows her children are not safe, and there is a father in the Seem who would think his daughter's chances are good. But he does not. He's not that stupid, he knows the districts want another great show, why else would they have reinstated the games by popular demand?

There is a girl at the reaping; there is a boy amongst the crowd. They are like their predecessors, but now they stand, the bakers son and the storms daughter. They have grey eyes that do not meet, but they know the other is there, it gives them no comfort.

There is a boy on the train, the place he has been dreading for a long time. There is a girl in the compartment, and she knows this is all the boys fault. They want nothing to do with each other; they want to forget about their parents past.

There is a man in the Seem, wondering how this came to be. There is a woman in the house, crying in her husband's arms.

They all know the games won't be so lenient this time.

_Asher_

It's quite awkward here, with Gale's kid stalking around the close compartments of the train. I guess I should start calling her Juniper, but…

They won't let my parents mentor us. I guess it's good to get someone fresh in, they've already told me everything I need to know about the games, and I guess I've seen my fair share of "happy couple" to get the idea into my head and basically know how to act it. I'm just worried about… Juniper. She might end up coming after me with her teeth as soon as the gong rings. I wouldn't put killing off her district partner past her, especially if her district partner is me.

Dinner feels sulky. Juniper keeps shooting me smug looks, and makes sure to sit beside Rory. Yah, Rory is our mentor. Her dad's _brother_ is our _mentor_. It's less cheap than Mum and Dad mentoring us, but still. Whoever decided this probably doesn't discern anything messed up about this situation, seeing as all of Panems districts expect us to instantly fall in love. This _will_ be difficult.

I smile at Juniper just to annoy her. She keeps scowling when I do that and it makes me think of Mum, which makes me creeped out. Turning my attention to the opposite wall, I can't help noticing our escort has taken out a camera and started snapping pictures. I blow Juniper a kiss because I might as well; it's majorly overdone and our escort topples out of her chair squealing. Gales kid is staring daggers and Rory just keeps ignoring me.

Within a moment, Carmela Rosamund has slid back into her chair, blushing and giggling. I'm glad these people are so easily fooled; it'll make my life much easier.

_Juniper_

Freaking pathetic. If that kid seriously thinks I'm going to play along with this, he… he's exactly what he is. A witches and a retarded bakers offspring, a retarded baker witch…wizard. Who knows?

I want to throw my food at that psychopathic woman who keeps taking out her camera. I seriously wonder what exactly she's hoping to take pictures of. Besides the happy family we are. Sarcasm by the way. Plus, we're only related if the witch Katniss is still classified as my aunt second removed.

I get angry at Rory when he stops me from leaving the dinner carriage. I have no idea what he wants, but I learn soon enough

He wants us to watch hunger games reruns. And not those of just any games, he's forcing us to watch _the _games.

'seriously Rory.' I try pushing past him, he gets in my way again.

'Seriously Juniper. Gale wants you back alive, it's the least I can do.'

'By forcing me to watch _his_ parents _make out_!'

'They don't make out.'

'No that's not until later.' The bakers kid grins.

'Will you shut up? I don't want to know _any _the details that lead up to your unfortunate birth, Asher.'

'That's a little harsh.' The blonde retorts.

'thankyou.'

Rory pushes me in the general direction of a couch in the far end of the room, and Asher follows as I reluctantly drag myself onto the arm rest.

'And now we're supposed to snuggle.' I say flatly, and the retarded baker witch pats the couch pillow beside him.

'you're not very good at this.' He tells me.

'you think you are?'

'no. We could at least try to make this work. They'll surely mess up our lives in the arena if we don't.'

'You think our lives in the arena won't be messed up? Psh. In which universe.'

The blondes gaze hardens and I can tell I've passed some line. 'You know I don't, we all know I don't.'

What a wuss.

'Pay attention Juniper. Do it for Gale.' Rory tells me.

'Do what? You think dad wants me to cuddle this guy on camera?' saying that sentence makes me make a face.

'Just try ok? Just try and co come back home.' He clicks the remote and the show starts. He then proceeds to wander off as inconspicuously as possible. He's a hypocrite, but I can't blame him. Dad must have been a mess when this stuff aired.

It's not too bad for the most part. It's laughable that people think I look like the witch Katniss, even though the similarities are admit ably larger when she was my age. I almost gain respect for her the way she ignores the baker for the most part, until the kissing. I resist the urge to shield my eyes. I involuntarily glance at Asher, and notice him staring intently. How disgusting. I push myself off the chair and stomp to the door

'You wish.' I call over my shoulder as I leave.


	2. egged by a fancy pot

**Writing this is more enjoyable than it should be xD **

**hope you like!  
**

_Asher_

Sheeesh. What a spaz. I ignore the mock kissing noises emanating from the hall as Juniper storms away.

But I don't really care, I'm even glad she's left. The 74th games seem for my eyes only, and I know that's ridiculous knowing as this stuff has been aired all over Panem, but it feels so personal I can't help wanting to watch alone. I've seen other games, but never these.

It's strange seeing my middle aged parents as old as me, and they weren't kidding when they say I'm Dads clone. If you ignore the eyes, we could be twins. But then I think of everyone deciding Junipers like mom and feel queasy.

And now I see them in a new sort of light. When everyone talks about the games, they feel mythical and unreal, but now my parents and everything they've been through become reality to me. I come to the part with the family interviews, and I see the girl from the photo.

The picture is propped on Mums bed side table, showing a girl younger than me, with light hair and bright eyes. The first time I noticed it, I thought it must be Dads sister, before I realized he didn't have a sister. My sister came in right then and plopped down on the bed beside me. 'Casava? Who's this?'

'oh that's just auntie Primrose.'

'Aunt?'

'yah, she got blown-up during the rebellion. Don't ask Mom about her ok? She'll freak.'

And now those words bounce around in my head as I watch Primrose speak hopefully about Mum.

"_Blown-up_"

She would have been younger than me.

_Blown-up, blown-up, blown-up._

The girl is wrapped in her mother's arms. I never met grandma Everdeen, but she seems so distant I'm not surprised she died early. And the girl keeps talking, strong and innocent like nothing could pull her sister down.

The video ends with the berries. The berries, I've heard so much about them, but seeing this scene I feel like people made t much of it. It was just a quick decision, with no planning or forethought. Mum just wanted to get her and Dad out alive. The screen buzzes to blackness, and I let my head fall into my hands. This is impossible, I can't reenact that with Juniper, and that stunt with the berries definitely won't work a second time, heck, they'd probably just let both of us die for the sake of "tragedy".

I meander back to my compartment, feeling more helpless than ever.

_Juniper_

It is dark but I can't sleep. Tomorrow we'll be in the capitol, the stinking capitol. I can't believe the rebels didn't demolish that place after they won. And what a win it was, just to reestablish all the previous rules, with maybe a slightly better life in the districts.

I want to break those pretty buildings like trampling a sand castle. I can imagine them tumbling to the ground and crushing everything, and everyone. Maybe me too but at least I'd get to see them fall.

But I know that's not going to happen. It's they who'll get to dress me up and then kill me. It's almost funny how the districts fought for freedom, realized they were bored, and started these sick games up all over again.

Oh yah, except now they're known as the "face-offs", but no one bothers to call them by something so ridiculously stupid.

And the reality is, most people aren't affected by the games, and most is the majority. And that's the majority needed to reinstate them.

I finally come to terms with the fact that I'm not going to bed, and decide I might as well use my time productively.

I scramble through my drawers, but can't find anything useful. I have the forethought to scrounge out the capitol provided hair pins and slip one into my pocket. I slide quietly out of my room and make my way to the train's kitchens. The door is locked, but that's no problem. I know they wouldn't have been stupid enough to make this lock easily pick-able but there is a serving window opening into the dining hall thingy. I make my way there and clamber onto the serving ledge. The lock is easy, and after a moment I'm in.

I find a pot, simple enough, a tall thin one that could only be some messed up capitol trend. The string is more difficult but still manageable, I find it in some capitol attendants private cubby. Ehe, cubby, they get cubbies. I don't think they'll miss the yo-yo very much, and I bet the results of this will be more satisfying then a yo-yo anyway.

I fill the pot with some raw eggs from the fridge and haul my cache over to Asher's bedroom thingy. One more trip gets me a chair and I stand on it, balancing the pot on the unnaturally protruding door casing. This is one of those times when I'm glad I can be silent. I rig up the yo-yo string so it travels from the pots handle to the outside door handle, I check it over one last time and leave too grab a pillow from my room. Ok, this isn't very creative but no one cares.

I camp outside of Ashers bedroom and eventually fall asleep. The distinct click of our escort's heels wakes me, and I jump up to knock lightly (so the pot of nastiness doesn't come unbalanced) on the door before she can get there.

'Wakey, wakey! eggs and backey!' I yell, pressing my mouth against the door crack before retreating a safe distance away. The escort sighs and brings out her camera. I seriously wonder what romantic thoughts can derive from that sentence of mine.

'Juniper?' Asher calls from inside, sounding partially awake.

'come out dear! Today is going to be an enormous day!' The escort calls, making a nervous glance at the pot but deciding it's filled with roses.

A few minutes passes before I see the door handle turn.

And open.

And Asher steps out.

And gets egged.

'Juniper.' He says calmly while I pound the floor in laughter. 'Thanks for the breakfast, love.' He grins at the escort, who blushes and squeals, while he graciously licks egg yolk off his finger and returns to his room, presumably to go shower.

Oh. That was not cool. Not cool at all. I stop laughing abruptly and just stare at the door blankly.

'Why don't you go in dear?' The escort sighs, turning bright pink. 'I'm sure he's waiting.'

Oh god. What a sick minded person she is, that makes me want to barf. So I just scramble out of the hall way and hide outside the conductors door.

_Asher_

Well that was immature. I avoid the eggs at breakfast and just smile at Juniper whenever she passes by. I heard that comment the escort made at the door and barely suppressed a fit of death inducing laughter. I guess that's why Juniper looks mortified for the rest of the day.

The capitol is fancy, not as fancy as it once was I hear, but still. We great our stylists, well, I do. Juniper just gets angry and almost throws a pork chop at the guy. Teressa looks relieved to have me as a tribute, and our escort Carmela brings out the camera, from which Juniper does _not_ withhold the meat.

Her stylists, Miki, and her prep team usher her away from the table, realizing that they'll need _loads_ of time to get her to cooperate.

Dinner is finished in silence, and I can't help but feel bad for Rory who just stares blankly at his food, unsure of what to do.

Eventually I'm sitting with Teressa in the fancy dressing room as she nods her head at random intervals. I'm starting to worry she has some sort of mental problems.

Eventually she sighs dramatically and leaves. After a moment I decide to follow her. She bobs in some stuff on a keypad, and within a few minutes a shiny bag has risen into the room.

'Here it is!' she tells me, holding up the bag.

'erm… very-'

'Oh sorry!' she giggles (which s awkward, no one wants their stylist to giggle). 'It's I the bag!'

Teressa meticulously unwraps the suit from within the folds of protective bagginess. And well, it's a suit. And it smells weird… and one arm is longer than the other. I instinctively check to see if I'm actually lopsided that way, I'm not. Someone failed.

She hands it me before hobbling out of the room.

_Okay…_

When she returns, I'm still standing there, not having moved at all, awkwardly, holding the black material in one hand and a pair of matching socks in the other.

'oh sorry!' she burst, running back out and slamming the door.

_Ummm…_

It takes one more similar exchange to get me to realize she wants me to get changed.

I get giddy as I near the chariots. Horses neigh, and the sound of the crowd penetrates through the big doors. Tributes stand around their chariots, one girl from eleven is petting her horse and some kid from four is sitting on his and waving his arm like a cowboy. Something about him seems familiar, come to think about it, something about the girl does to.

Not really thinking I wander over to them, just as someone who I presume to be one of their stylists does the same.

'O'dair.' The man nods to them. 'Tristen, get off the horse.'

Oh. Oh no. I met them once, when we visited the orphanage. Their Mom was alive, but living in a care home, and their Dad died in the rebellion. I realize that Annie would be watching these games, and if her twins die…

I clench my teeth and hurry back to the dark black District twelve chariot, ignoring the fancy luminescent costumes sported by all the tributes.

Juniper leans against the horse, insisting to Rory that she won't stand on a chariot beside a blonde because she might just get infected. I swing up onto the platform and offer my hand to her mockingly.

'Don't touch me.'

'You think I want to?'

She glares at my hand. Oh. I draw it back awkwardly.

Taking the opportunity, Rory picks her up and shoves her beside me. She stumbles into me, and I just manage not to fall, but we end up in some weird embrace.

'There you go!' Junipers stylist randomly appears behind us and welds our hands together. WAIT. He just welds the overlong arm sleeves together… don't worry, not with fire.

Great, now we're Siamese twins.

I can tell Juniper isn't happy about this. She shrugs back her shoulder so her hand is almost up to the elbow part of her jumpsuit.

'This is all your fault.'

'what? Since can I call upon random and spontaneous human beings to come and-' I shake the connected sleeve. '-weld our arms together? Since when do I want to even?'

'No you retard, I mean _all_ of this! If it weren't for you and your stupid family, we would never have to reenact this stupid thing!'

'You mean it's my fault I was born?'

'It's your fault you look so much like Peeta. It's your fault you even cooperate with these fancied freaks!'

'That's just-'I'm interrupted by a sudden wave of noise, crowds cheering and the cheesy sound of trumpets. The doors have opened, and the first chariots are making their slow procession into the waiting capitol.

'Just try.' I hiss in Junipers ear. 'Just try to act like you don't want me dead.'

'But that would be lying.'

At the last minute the stylist runs back to us and sets us on fire. How creative. Turns out half the district tributes are on fire along with us. District 7, district 13 (except their also exploding and shooting missiles that detonate in the air), district 11 (renewable corn energy or something), district 10 (burning cattle?) , district 4 (?), and last but not least, district 2, the burning miners who presumably have just been blown up by a stray stick of dynamite.

_Juniper_

We must look like we're in the circus. I'm glad Asher doesn't even try to do the whole romance thing, and so we're content with leaning drasticaly in opposite directions, fully aware that if the welding between our sleeves breaks, we'll be swallowed by the crowd below. It seems the crowd is also fully aware, because their starting to pull out forks and knives…Sorry, exaggeration, their only waving us off to be slaughtered for the lols.

I can't help but realize how retarded we must look, but the "eager to believe anything" capitol citizens seem to think we're leeing off the chariots to get closer to _them_.

Just to clarify that that isn't the case, I give them the middle finger. Which sets off a middle finger chain reaction. First it's the people at the front, jumping in beat to the music and waving their middle fingers in the air like the spider man rock symbol, but soon all of Panem is exchanging middle fingers likes it's a freaking handshake or something. I slap my palm against my forehead as my eyes fall on one of the huge display screens. It's a close up of me, sticking up my finger remixed. It would have been the most hilarious thing ever if not for the fact that it's me, and… well… I glare at Asher whose finally burst out laughing after struggling to contain it for some time.

'Good one Juniper.' He yells over the din.

'Yah, cause that's my life's dream.' I gesture in the direction of the big screen, still showing me. They practically made a music video out of the one two second clip.

_Things are really going great for me. Just great._

**Its the profanation of the nation. Review Review Review! I need some encouragement from you people! :D good? Bad? sucks camel hump? tell me! **

'


	3. Cooties and death wishes

_Asher_

Three days of training. I've had a life of training, and so have many of the competitors in these games.

Knives, swords, bows, spears, even some of the weirder stuff like blow darts and throwing weights, I've seen it all. Held it all in my hands. Become familiar with the distinct balance and technique of the weapon. I'm not a born bowman, but many hours spent correcting my posture, my aim with mum guiding my hands along the bows length have taught it to me.

Juniper smirks at me as I cross the room to the bow station alongside her. She nimbly picks an arrow off the ground and twirls it in front of my face. 'This is an arrow. You use it like this. Watch. Maybe some of this will penetrate through your skull. And then you can penetrate someone else's skull. Alright?' She smiles mockingly at me, and I just smile back cockily.

Her arrow flies hard, and I can almost feel the impact as it impales the dummies throat.

'Thanks for the briefing.' I pull back my bow string, and launch the arrow.

And it cuts hers in half. Nah, it doesn't. I'm pretty sure that Robin Hood thing doesn't work at all, even if you were amazing.

Instead, it penetrates the dummies head.

'That a skull shot enough for you?' I ask, strolling over to the neighboring station.

'Your face is a skull shot enough for me, blonde.'

I hear thud after thud as she snipes at the dummy, there's a couple misses, given away by the clatter of arrow tip against the tiles, but over all she's pretty good.

Over here at the sword station, I meet one of the scariest people of life.

His huge, and buff, and could probably lift me up with his tongue.

He's the son of the sister of Cato.

And his name is Dave.

Dave.

….Dave.

'Dave, could you pass me that sword over there?' I ask, you know, _friendily._

'no.'

'you want me to get it myself, do you?'

'no.'

I glance at the teacher person, and he shrugs.

'Do you.. want to use that sword then?'

'no.'

'alright… then.'

'no.'

I practice with the sword, just because, but it's boring, and I can't help but want to do something more productive than just show off as I've been told to.

I hang back beside an environment information station and watch the tributes as they make their way around. As I identify the faces and the numbers, I realize there's a definite pattern, and I feel like this reenactment thing has gone too far.

There's Dave, male district two tribute and the O'dair twins that I know of, and I could have already guessed what they're doing from that setup, but it's clear once others start popping up.

A startling girl from District One, with golden hair and sparkling green eyes. Her names is Vixen, and I can see she's related to the girl from the 74th games. A girl who sticks to Dave, and goes by Dime. Some guy named Wolve from One, a lithe girl from Five with waving red hair and a pointed nose, a cripple from Ten, and a girl about twelve years old with dark skin and large eyes from Eleven. Their all like me, like Juniper, chosen because their relatives where, picked to recreate the past.

And you can tell some of them where trained, like me, clearly people realized what would happen the first year the games where reinstated.

I can't sit through dinner, and instead I hurry to my assigned room and search for a pen and paper. I find the pen, marked with the capitol seal in the night-table drawer, but there's no paper so I scribble everything down on my arm. The names, the abilities, possible allies. I'll be keeping a lookout for the next couple days in the capitol.

Eventually I order some food from the wall menu, but end up leaving most of it on the windowsill and just picking at the fancy roll every so often.

I get panicky today, for the first time fully comprehending the death sentence I've been living, realizing I'll be dead in a couple days, hopefully with my innards intact, though that's definitely not a guarantee. I pace in front of the bed, the window, the shower curtain, and eventually make my way into the hall. Pacing pacing pacing. Thinking thinking thinking. At one point I pass Juniper in the hall, we don't exchange a word, not even a glance. Tick tock, night is passing, clocks turning, stars blinking, lights bright here, tic tic tic, footsteps, creaking, tic tic, dark, weary, confused, hopeless, thinking thinking thinking…

I'm back in the fluffy bed. The world feels dark, but lights creep in from the big window and the capitol streets. There's a knock on the door at around three. I stay silent, cocooning myself tighter in the downy comforter. Whoever it was leaves. The lights in the capitol still shine, and sometime I dream of the 74th games, where I am one of the wolf mutants. One with blond hair and blue eyes, with district twelve beveled in the steel of its collar.

_Juniper_

I wait at the table as the tributes disappear. One by one until it's only me. And then it _is_ me, and I'm in standing in front of a line of game makers, readying a snare. It takes a couple seconds to rig it up, and then, making sure I don't fail, I shoot an arrow straight through it. The loop contracts sharply, catching it in mid flight. There's not much else I can do, so I just break things. I'm glad breaking things is deemed productive at this point in time.

Back in the hall with Asher and the freaks, I chew my steak in silence.

'SO!' Escort person breaks the silence, and probably someone's eardrums too.

'…how did you do?' Rory asks before the escort can.

I shrug, dodling my fork around the plate.

Asher doesn't even acknowledge the question, seeing as it's aimed at me.

'How _did_ you do?' I turn to him after a moment, actual curiosity peeping through my sarcasm.

He glances up at me funny with those bright gray eyes. '…doesn't really matter does it? Death is death.'

'Ah,yes, I didn't realize that.' I retort.

The escort gasps like that some great piece of philosophy. Or maybe she's just realized we're in the hunger games. I wouldn't doubt that.

'What about- What about the Berries-'She clasps her hands over her mouth like she's just disclosed a huge secret.

'About that…' Rory stands up. 'Will you two come with me?'

Asher and I follow Rory into an empty room that looks like it could be used for small conferences.

'Don't even try to pull that.' He says the moment the door is closed. 'It won't work.'

'We know.' Asher and I state in unison.

'Good. We want one of you back alive.'

Then we all just stand there for a moment, and I'm about to leave when Rory starts up again.

'Hold hands.'

Asher and I glance at each other in alarm.

'No. He has cooties.' I state flatly.

'And her hands are covered in animal vitals.'

I can't help glancing down at my fingers, and no, they're not covered in vitals if you were wondering.

'_you two are completely hopeless.'_

'Am not.'

'me neither.'

'I'm calling Gale. Telling him to prepare the graves. Maybe in the meadow, but not where the mass graves are.'

'Rory, I know you're my uncle and all, but if you force this "romance" any further you'll be the one needing a grave.' I cross my arms and stare at him challengingly.

'Now your threatening your mentor _and_ you district partner? ' Asher lifts an eyebrow. Dang, why can he do that and I can't. Like, I can only lift two eyebrows at once and… Meh.

'Yah Juniper. Stop threatening your mentor.' Rory says mockingly.

'yah Rory, stop messing with teenage hormones.'

There's another moment of silence in which I cross my arms even tighter, Asher sighs and Rory looks ticked.

'Fine.' He finally raises his hands as if in surrender. 'Fine. If that's the way you want it.' And he walks out.

'Good riddance.' I mutter under my breath.

'Say that to your life, Juniper. It'll stop bothering you some time in the next couple weeks.' Asher grins at me before leaving as well.

'Good riddance.' I add a second time as his footsteps recede in the hallway.


	4. We like to gas people

_Juniper_

Heels, steps, frills, hairspray, mascara, blush, nails. I walk around in a little cloud of girlyness. Rory can't give me an angle and the lights as I rise onto the stage blind me. I raise my arms to my face, squinting through my heavily altered lashes. Cameras flash like strobe lights in the audience, and I catch sight of glittering pink sequins of our new interviewer's suit.

'Welcome, tributes of our very first Face-Offs!' He says in a booming voice, swiveling around to face us in the golden swivel chair. 'This is Augustus Flasherson, and these, are The Interviews!'

The crowd roars in acknowledgment as Augustus continues. 'We've got some familiar faces in the crowd today, and amongst them, is one victor that will meet us back here in about one month's time. WHO-WILL- IT- BE!

The interviews begin, and the buzzers are going off too fast. 23 tributes, 22 tributes, 20, 18 14, are three minutes really passing by? Everyone is playing their part, the monster from two, the sly one from 5, the fluttering little girl from eleven. Then it's Asher… something tells me they screwed with the order but whatever.

He doesn't look comfortable in the plush seat up in front of the cameras and the people, he doesn't look relaxed like you'd think, and it takes me a few moments to figure out what's wrong.

The famous Peeta Mellark's son has -drum roll pleas- _stage fright_. I know right? The only thing that stops me from guffawing is the fact that it's actually not funny at all.

'so Peeta.' Augustus begins, and I swear that name confusion was on purpose. 'It must be terrible, being the son of two victors.'

'Yah… knowing what happens in the games first hand… isn't just an advantage.' Asher ignores Augustus' failure.

From that moment on, I can tell he's straight out lying, or maybe just too fitful in front of the crowd to say anything else. But the audience loves it anyway because their two immersed in this love tragedy set-up to believe in anything else. It's too quick before they get to the fatal questions.

'And Asher, I'm sure you know all about your parents Hunger Games.' That gets a sigh from the crowd. 'But I'd like to ask, how's it going for you?' He nudges him and double winks.

'I…' The audience holds their breaths for the following moment of silence, I lean forward in the seat, grasping for the lie, or the truth he's about to tell.

'…good.'

Oh. seriously?

Augustus waves the unsatisfactory words off with a hand. 'Sorry, didn't catch that, I mean is there anyone vying for you back home. Of course not including your family and friends.'

And that leaves one kind of relationship.

Asher drops his head in his hands, not replying.

'It's going to be all ok..' Augustus sighs getting choked up for some reason and patting Asher on the shoulder comfortingly. A collective "aww" escapes the audience.

'It's no-… it's really not.' My district partner whispers, his words caught up and sent out all over Panem. The buzzer goes and he grapples back to the chair.

I don't say anything as I pass him on my way to the front.

'Juniper.' The interviewer creep greats me. I suddenly realize he has lilies in his hair and how ridiculous that is.

'Yes?' I snicker, getting a rush of giddiness. 'Hey mister man.'

He looks up at me alarmed, as if I'm supposed to be all sad and stuff, he raises a handkerchief to his eyes. 'What's going through your head right now? June, can I call you that.'

I burry my face in my thin dress to muffle my laughter, and end up muffling my words too. 'No.'

'Why n- oh. All right. I see.'

What does he see! I get worried about the over skimpy dress for a moment before realizing the sentence had to do with my answer.

'You don't.' I say automatically. 'You don't understand anything.' My face is still buried in the dress because I'm laughing so hard and choking on my own breath and crying in the process.

'We do!' I hear scattered shouts from the audience.

'NO!' I scream because I need someone or something to contradict, and because I'm quite happy that's all I need to do in this interview.

'Shhhhh' Interviewer dude pats me on the back like he did with Asher. 'You love him a lot, don't you?'

It takes me a moment to realize what the heck he's talking about. I lift my face out of the dress and most of my body out of the chair, startled.

'No I…' My words trail off as my brain fogs up. Fog fog and mist, heavy eyelids, the gentle tap of the floor meeting me, and then nothing.

* * *

'They gassed me! That is _not_ fair!

'It wouldn't sit well if these games got messed up just because some girl didn't want to play along.' Rory shrugs, clearly glad.

'Well, I sucked so it doesn't really matter.' Asher buts in, sounding depressed.

'Not so fast bub.' Rory states.' You got to watch the reruns.'

And we do. I'm speechless through the district twelve sections. It's amazing how much close ups and added fanciful music can twist things. The romance thing is still running.

For all the audience knows, Asher is depressed because he knows only one of us will win, and I'm crying desperately into the stupid dress because I realize that too and then I "faint". I can't believe it. I don't even laugh when I realize district 13 was cut from the reruns.

'They'll mess your lives up if you don't play this up.' Rory concludes.' It's the only way for you to win.'

'_her _to win.' The blond mutters, leaving. Rory ignores him and I try to stop myself from blowing a raspberry at Asher as he sulks away.

* * *

**hello there faithful readers! this is the author speaking (not a terrorist) and I'd just like to thank you for the fact that reviewing has crossed your mind. whether you acted on that impulse is another story entirely.**

**I would also like to allert you of a wonderful pun I just found when randomly defining words on word.**

• We should try to meet them whether it's raining or not.

**that made the last half an hour for me.**

**~snowhiskers, aka Bones, aka Wizard-hat-is-wizard**

**p.s have a splendid evening  
**


	5. hello world, goodbye world

**More Hunger games fun and Asher trying to have epic thoughts****. **

Asher

Too soon we board the hovercrafts, and the meager time I was thought we would have on them passes too fast. Now I stand in the newly finished rooms below the arena, begging for time to tick a little slower.

But it won't, so I should just get over that shouldn't I. Time won't slow when they've got a spear inches from my jugular, it won't slow when I'm seconds from death.

I should just be an optimist and be glad I have a couple more weeks.

Nah, more like days.

Or minutes?

Seconds?

'I'll, uh, just…um' The stylist prances about, her cheeks a deep shade of burgundy. 'This…. Door…it…' She rattles at the knob but obviously it doesn't open. 'Doesn't…sorry...I'll…uh…just…be over…here?' and she curls up into a ball on the floor.

Some people confuse me.

I look down at the bundle on the lonely table centered in the room. Inside, we've got white shirts, khaki pants and dark green thigh length jackets. I sigh, and start lacing up the supple boots.

I step onto the launch pad and wait. My mouth goes dry and I wonder when I'll get a chance to get a drink of water. I eye the glass on the table, and I'm about to get it when suddenly a movement in the corner of the room catches my eye.

It's Teressa, the stylist. She wander across the room and doddles around beside the launch pad, looking fidgety.

'… I uh…I think that…I'

Then the announcement blare on and the glass comes down over me. Teressa is left standing, still talking but I can't hear her any longer, and the pod begins to rise. I wave her a weird little goodbye, absently pondering what tribute she'll be dressing next year, and whose child they'll be.

I rise through the darkness between the launch rooms and the arena, listening to my heart beating in the silence.

Then there is light, and my world enfolds before me.

But it's not my world, it's theirs, the previous generations. Or at least that's my first impression. I realize it's different when I get lost looking for a similar layout. I give myself a mental face palm, they couldn't make it _exactly_ the same, then everyone would know everything about it.

Right across the cornucopia from me is a massive bog, the dead trees protruding tooth-pick like at awkward angles from the marsh and I immediately rule it out as a livable area, though I can't help but wonder if there are any streams leading into it. On either side of that stretches an endless evergreen forest, the branches looking too high off the ground for climbing and leaving almost no undergrowth or cover below them. I rule that out as well. The lack of hiding places makes it a place only good for hunting, hunting people that is.

I turn on my heel, desperately hoping for a suitable living space and simultaneously being wary of the mines buried all around me, and what do I see but paradise.

Yes, endless cherry groves and little candy houses with blooming fountains of pristine water and…

Yah I wish.

Instead I'm granted with giant jagged rocks twice the size of the mayor's rather substantial house, basically spearing the sky to be poetic.

It's like someone went and threw them onto the earth so they landed strewn randomly atop each other, forming dark caverns in the cracks between boulders. Light them on fire and you'd have the underworld where serial killers go when they die, if you believe the tales.

I can't help but realize that the underworld is going to receive 25 new recruits within the following month, and suddenly, with like, ten seconds left till the gong sounds, I feel like I'm having an epiphany. I've been training my whole life to _kill_ _people._ How sick is that, and when I say sick I don't mean awesome.

The thought basically makes me loose the second head start that would probably have increase chances of me surviving 100%, because yes, I'm headed towards the cornucopia.

I run across the tough grass at full speed, willing myself to go faster and get ahead of all the others. And when I say all the others, I mean _every single tribute in the games_, because the cornucopia is where _everyone_ is headed.

I skid across the ground, the giant golden horn looming up before me, and loop my arm through the straps of a rather well decorated bag. I don't have the time to wonder what might be inside it, only enough to scramble to my feet and obtain an epic looking sword. I stand, shaking, every nerve in my body ready to jump out of place and/or get me the heck out of there, when suddenly I'm knocked of my feet, the extent of my inventory getting flung out of my hands and strewn across the ground. I land hard, getting so winded it's like all of the oxygen in every cell, ever, just disappears, leaving a suffocating pain in its place.

But it's not like I have time to collect myself before springing to my feet, snatching the bag from its landing place beside me, and winding back a fist to punch my attacker in the face, only realizing who it is a moment too late.

"Damn it Asher! This totally means war!" Juniper yells over the din, dark blood starting a flood from her nose, acting as if football mauling me _doesn't_ mean war.

My eyes widen. "You made me loose the stuff!" I exclaim, ignoring her and turning to go scavenge the epic sword before we all die.

Suddenly someone's fingers are clamped around my neck and I hear Juniper hissing in my ear: "Didn't you hear me, blonde? I'm not on your side!"

"what?" I manage to cough out through her hold on my trachea, my thoughts suddenly turning to unintelligible static. Juniper's my district partner…how could we not be working together?

"I'm choking you and you still don't understand. You have much to learn, grasshopper." I can feel her shaking her head, and tingles run up my spine as her dark hair brushes my neck.

Her grip tightens, but I'm still having troubles working up a "let's make juniper feel_ paaaiinnn" _attitude.

_Just elbow her in the stomach and get over with it._ But I can't. She's my district partner. Evil or not.

My eyesight starts to get blurry, and my grip loosens and the bag drops to the ground. I don't hear it hit the dirt, I don't hear anything but the loud roar of adrenalin or something or another in my ears.

And suddenly I'm on the ground, gasping for breath, rubbing my hand across my neck and looking up at the sky as it blots back into place.

My senses return just in time to hear Juniper scream and a rather too-large-to-be-Juniper's boot smash against my chest, squishing the air back out of my lungs. Oh _come on!_

"It's almost sad to break up this girl fight." Wolve stares down at me with his squinty, low browed eyes. "But we've got to get down to business."

Dave appears in the corner of my vision, dangling juniper in the air by her neck, giving her a rather good taste of her own medicine. She paws weakly at his fingers, her eyes growing dim. It's hard to feel bad for her when I'm in an equally death inducing situation, but I still manage to.

"So, loverboy-"I can't help but accidentally let out what air I had left in an exasperated sigh as Wolve mentions my father's nickname. "-We got your well mannered girl friend here, and she's about to die. You want her to live?" He grins at me. "Here's the deal…wait, there is no deal! We get to kill you right here, right-" Wolve trails off, his eyes drifting away from mine and over to something behind me, startled, he lifts his foot from my chest and steps back. I breathe deeply, quickly sitting up in relief and realizing that it's unnaturally silent. There's nobody left near the cornucopia besides Dave, Wolve, Juniper (still dangling from Dave's hand) and me…And the noise.

I twist around at the sound of a zipper opening, and it takes me a moment to identify the source- an enormous, camo bag with absolutely no way of being carried.

There's nobody anywhere near it, but slowly, and rather jerkily, the zipper slides open.

I hear an "oof" as Juniper is dropped to the ground, but all eyes, including mine, are on the ghostly bag.

It lies there, wrinkled and still for a few moments, wind whistling across its open top.

And when the hand slides out from the bag, we all run squealing like there's no tomorrow.

I've only gone two steps when something clocks me on the head, and I fall back, dazed. Above me looms a mysterious face, blurred and blotchy through the brain damage and blood curling pain.

I can only wonder if maybe there actually _is_ no tomorrow.

* * *

**I'm not feeling quite as random and unnecessary as usual so I'm just going to tell you all that I've had this chapter written for a long long time I've just been hiding it in my closet for reasons I don't understand.**

**Hooray for not learning what happens to Asher for another two chapters ! :) (and considering how long it took me to post this chapter, two years as well) - (actually no, the next chapter is done)**

**~that person whose writing stuff you read  
**


	6. It takes two to tango

**wow, long time no post -_- but it's because my computer had to be switched with another computer for a while and I didn't have access to my ! ON WITH THE SHOW**

* * *

Juniper

I would stop running, if it weren't for Wolve. I gotta admit, the hand freaked me out, freaked everyone out. Seeing Wolve and his biceps run screaming like someone whose Siamese twin is a cactus would have been worth it if he hadn't have quickly pulled himself together and started a death rampage towards yours truly, like it was _all_ part of the plan. You know, the same way you and me will wave to someone you think you know, only to realize it's some random kid and then immediately swerve your waving hand to make it look like you where just reaching up to smooth back your hair. Only that Wolve kills people and we…don- scratch that. I kill people. And you would too if you where a bear with a gun.

Not that I'm a bear with gun. No offense to you bears reading this with your guns.

I run towards the tree line. Yes, the one with absolutely no coverage beneath its extremely gloomy coniferous trees (that's biology for you). I would have screamed –maybe…probably not…never mind- when the knife dissects the air besides my ear and impales the tree almost directly in front of me with a soul shattering thud, but I've gotten used to it. Or at least as close to getting used to knives wising past your face is possible, because I don't think it is. He's been throwing so many knives that I could swear he eats them in his spare time and uses his stomach as a storage space.

That would mean that he's barfing up knives.

I dodge nimbly between the trees with Wolve's heavy breathing clouding up the silence behind me. For a long while we both run at full speed, and I begin to wonder when we'll hit the end of the arena. Minutes? Days?

Slowly but surely, I can tell he's gaining on me as the initial adrenaline rush fades and is replaced with a dull, throbbing panic that keeps pace with my stride.

He's run out of knives, so what will he do to me when he finally catches up? The trees are branchless and there's no point in trying to shimmy up, it's not fast enough, and the rows of trunks seem to stretch on endlessly. This means I'm going to die, it means Wolve'll tear out my heart and eat it while it's still beating just to regain his manliness.

I choke on a lump that forms in my throat, forcing my legs to go faster, only to realize that they won't. I know I can't fight him. Even with my life of training and all. I am hopeless, always was.

And Wolve just won't give up.

I'll never see Gale again. I'll never go back to District 12 and hunt in the fresh smelling woodland. I'll never grow up to be all old and wrinkly, yelling at soot covered children to get off my Capitol issued lawn.

I'm sprawled on the ground, little memory of tripping breaking through my thoughts. We've been running way too fast for hours, and the blood has rushed from my head, leaving my vision fading to black around the edges. I try one last time to lift myself up but flop back to the ground, since evidently all my muscles have now become nonexistent.

I'd like to say that Wolve then collapsed onto the ground beside me, whipped out an umbrella and some lemonade, and made a toast to humanitarianism. Or maybe I'd rather he just collapse to the ground, dead. But either way, it didn't happen.

Instead, a little voice calls out to me.

I freeze, so does Wolve who stands mere meters before me.

Am I dead? What? Little voices are for schizophrenics…

We both do a 360 take on our surroundings, and then I see her, like an avenging angel coming out of the woodland to save me.

She is the District Eleven girl, the one with wide, innocent brown eyes that look at you like you personally burned down her orphanage. She holds a floppy lamb plushy in her thin, dark arms. Immediately, I am disappointed. She's about as powerful as me, if I was still a fetus.

"Run Katniss!" She yells, her voice itself sounding too small for the amount of air she seems to put into it. "You can't die! He can't kill you! You need to win!"

I can only stare at her, not even pissed that she'd called me by the forsaken name of my so-brain-dead-might-as-well-be-a-zombie District partner's witch mother.

Wolve laughs, swinging his bony head from side to side as the girl whose name I hadn't bothered to figure out frowns at him and simultaneously shakes from fear. And then, without warning, she flings the lamb doll at the District one boy with precision that could only possibly make her mother proud.

The teddy lands pitifully at the boy's feet, collecting dirt as it skids. Wolve stares at it with wide, colorless eyes and an indecisive sneer, like he isn't sure whether he should just laugh or run in case the girl's district token has a bomb implanted inside it.

"Get away from my friend," The District Eleven girl's words are surprisingly cold. "You know you'll always die. No matter how many times you play this game."

I slowly stand, forcing my shaking limbs to collect what little energy I have regained and concentrate it into one final attempt at survival. My eyes focus as the girl speaks. Her words are rather crazy and confused but touching a place deep inside me, almost like she's exposing my innards to a cool breeze. My heart rate has had a moment to calm and my breathing is hinting at going back to normal, maybe I can take Wolve by surprise.

"You have your place to play. We all do. We will never escape our fates," She continues, and I see my chance as the boy watches her carefully, like he's scared she's about to go all insane asylum on him, and at the same time completely oblivious to my actions.

I take a few tentive steps towards Wolve. The girl almost turns to look at me questioningly, but I shake my head before she draws Wolves' attention.

And then, deciding on acting quickly, I run up to him and jump up, getting ready to roundhouse kick him in the face.

But he's quicker than that.

He catches my ankle and judo flips me to the ground, making my bones jar at the impact with the forest floor and making me feel like death.

I try and scramble to my feet but he jams his palm into my face, pushing me back to the ground. He steps on my chest with his overbig foot while I try and kick his unmentionable place and miss since his gross hand is pressed against my eyes and I can't see.

I bite on his hand and wince at the taste of salty sweat, he draws back for just a moment, but I yank myself out of his grip in the time provided.

He jumps at me, but suddenly something flies at him from the side and knocks him out of my direction. The projectile is the district eleven girl, and they both land in a disorganized heap of kung fu (on his part) and scratching (also on his part).

I smile. I can't beat Wolve, but maybe _we_ can.

I jump at the heap just as the girl gets launched into the air and off of Wolve. I end up landing on his face, and his head gets slammed against the ground. I keep pounding at his face until I feel a gentle poke on my back. I whip around and almost back hand the District Eleven girl across the face.

"What?" I huff, my limbs giving out again as I realize Wolve isn't moving… oh my god is he dead?

"He's unconscious by now." Her feeble voice replies to my suspicions. "I think. Let's go."

"I'm killing him." I declare, running my sore hands through the pine needles covering the ground in search of a rock, and I find one under his head, which would explain things.

"We need to go."

"If we don't kill him now we're screwed later-" She grabs my collar and starts trying to yank me away.

"Something coming! Can't you hear it?"

I pause, and in fact, I do hear it. The sound of a million hooves drumming against the ground, nearing too fast for my liking.

I grab the girls hand and flee with aching legs through the woods. Whatever it is will deal with Wolve and hopefully not us.

Hopefully.

* * *

**HI There :3 I'm also posting the next chapter now just because. also, it's kind of short. **

**Farewell my feathered friends**

**~be wishing you a joyfull summer**


	7. In which Asher realizes he is a male

Asher

"ROFLMAO"

"Not smart little brother. That was not smart."

"WHO'S THE BOSS?"

"Definitely not you- HEY DON'T POINT THAT THING AT ME!"

"You Jelly?"

"Put the bow down, fool."

"Look it! His finger moved!"

"DON"T POINT THE BOW AT UNCONCOIUSE BOY!"

"oops. But no really. His hand is twitching."

"That's probably because you gave him a stroke."

"hey kid. You dead?"

Someone jabs my arm and I groan and roll over. The air smells humid and salty, the voices of the two people echo. The surface beneath me is cold and hard, like stone. It hurts, almost as if I were covered in bruises. Come to think of it, everything hurts, including- awww my _head._ I groan again and then stop because my trachea is threatening to stab me if I make another noise.

"Let him be, Tristan. He'll wake up soon enough, and if he doesn't we leave him here."

"Where's here?" I hear my voice rasping painfully from my lips. I open one eye, feeling it might just be a good idea since- DAMN IT I'M IN THE HUNGERGAMES!

I scramble to my knees, but find myself back on the ground, my head feeling like it's giving birth.

"Woah, calm it son." A steady, almost familiar female voice sounds closer to me, and gentle hands tuck something soft beneath my head. "You got pretty banged up." Her last words are sharper, as if she were directing them at someone.

"Sorry Asher." A boy chuckles to my right and my eyes flip open as I finally realize who these people are. I try to resist the temptation to snap into a sitting position, and fail. This time I don't fall back to the ground but instead wait out the dizzy spell the falls over me.

When my vision clears, the first thing I see is light. Dazzling light falling through the dusty air. Then things become sharper and I see stone walls twisting around me. The light comes from high above, where the sun filters through a gap in the stone. I'm in some sort of rock formation…I bring my hand up to my rather wounded head, as if that'll help shake out my memories…

The only rock formation I could be in is…. The hell pointy rocks that were behind me when I first rose into the arena.

What if I were somewhere else? Somewhere unknown? What if this was a trap?

How did I get here?

And…why…What happened?

The boy comes into focus. Wavy brown hair, freckled face, Atlantic blue eyes ,mischievous grin, all that jazz.

I'd say he'd be 18, which makes sense considering him and his twin sister were first conceived during the rebellion. But he wasn't born until after Finnick died, after his father died.

Tristan and Arianne O'dair seem like the kind of people I could trust. But doesn't everyone until you put them in the hunger games?

"What…" I mumble like an old man.

"We need to settle a debate here." Tristan gestures at his sister with the bow he's holding, and I just manage to avoid getting whapped across the face. Arianne seems older, as if more mature. I see she's let her wildly curly, bronzy-ginger hair grow out and her turquoise eyes seem brighter than when I saw her once at the orphanage. I do a double take.

Don't judge me, I'm a guy.

"Was that stunt awesome sauce or what?" Tristan continues.

"Don't pester him Tristan. You practically killed him." Arianne sighs and I do a triple take.

"He's not dead is he? Are you dead Asher? You don't look very dead to me." Tristan tilts his head back and studies my face.

"Awesome sauce?" I question the language he used a couple sentences back, ignoring all that other confusing stuff like the fact that Tristan apparently tried to kill me. Should I be worried?

"He got his hands on some old files from way back whenever and started using all their slang. I think it's rather peculiar but you get used to it." The girl rolls her eyes and runs her hand through her hair. Is she trying to be overly provocative or is that just me?

"Anyways, what do you think?" Tristan grins, showing straight white teeth.

"About awesome sauce?"

"No silly. About the thing."

"He has no idea what the thing is Tristan. You might want to be a tad more descriptive."

Tristan sighs and brings his hands up to his face in comical frustration, "How could you _not _know what I'm talking about? It's the only exiting thing that's happened in the games thus far, or at least our sponsors definitely think so." Arianne nods as Tristan says this, and I notice the stack of bags and items behind her. "I'm talking about the cornucopia! We, I-" He tries to stifle laughter, "Omg that was hilarious, you all ran like wussies. Even you, tough boy-"

"Let's just say we hid out in a bag, in hopes of being carried off to some kid's lair 'for the lols' as Tristan put it, but realized it wasn't really working and cut the plan short." Arianne cuts Tristan off and he slaps her lightly for it.

"So the hand was… you?" my eyes are so wide I feel like my eyeballs are about to roll out of my head.

"Totally." Tristan grins.

I'm stunned into silence for a long moment before commenting, "That's one less thing to worry about. I thought it was some crazy mutant."

Tristan pretends to be crestfallen, "I thought you were just scared of _me_!"

I manage to laugh the slightest bit along with Arianne. "Don't worry Tristan, you're the scariest twin brother I could ever wish for." The girl reaches over and ruffles Tristan's wavy brown hair.

"And sorry about the head thing buddy," Tristan ducks out from beneath Arianne's hand, "From behind you look like just another stupid blonde."

"On the topic of people thinking I'm a stupid blonde," I start hesitantly, my mind wandering, "where are you two hiding Juniper?"

Both of them give me blank looks.

"My district partner? Dark hair? My age?" I prompt.

"Oh. The bitchy one." Arianne's eyebrows narrow and she adopts a rather peeved expression.

I don't know what to say to that besides "yah, her."

"The sexy one!" Tristan bursts out in a grin.

"That too." The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. Juniper? _Sexy?_ The two words have never met in my head before, but for some reason they seem to work…

Sexy Juniper.

I burry my face in my hands, feeling warmth rush into my cheeks.

"He's about to start nose bleeding." Tristan blurts.

Arianne rises suddenly to her feet. I look up at her, startled.

"We better find somewhere to camp out the night. We also need fresh water and a food source. And for your information, I have no idea where your _district partner_ is."

* * *

**oh Arianne. **

**The twins have got to be my favorite characters in this story.**

~**btw, here's a random question that just popped into my head that I believe would be fun to answer. what's your favorite Asher pairing? **


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